The Promise
by abbywesten
Summary: After a tragedy, there's only so much you can say.  Sometimes the best you can hope for is being there, and somehow life continues regardless.  Major character death.  Shules.
1. Juliet's Promise

_This is a total departure from both my usual style and subject matter. I wanted to try something different, needed to write a little angst and this one-shot was the result. I'd love to know what y'all think, because I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. Small mention of/mini-spoiler for We'd Like To Thank The Academy. Also, major character death and possibly a tearjerker (maybe?). Consider yourselves warned! :) And I don't own Psych. Sadly. -abby_

* * *

I saw it happen.

If I could prevent it, if I could go back to that terrible moment and change everything, I would do it in a heartbeat.

He knows that. I'm sure he knows. He has to. Because I'm positive he feels the same way.

We were both there. So was my partner, and I'm absolutely certain that he holds himself responsible. This shouldn't have happened, not right in front of us. We should have done something. We're cops. We should have been able to stop it.

God, the whole case was a disaster from the very beginning. I still can't believe the chief gave permission for them to ride along. _Just this once_, she said.

I wish she hadn't.

It was Carlton's call to let them come into the warehouse. I don't know why he agreed. I was really surprised, because he never agrees.

I don't know why I didn't argue. I should have. This is exactly the kind of thing that I always worried about. The very reason I suggested their (ridiculously short) stint at the academy.

Why? Why didn't I argue or insist that they wait in the car? On any other day I would have.

It wasn't any other day.

He says it isn't my fault. Or Carlton's fault either, although it would be very easy for him to blame us both. I would blame us. I _do_ blame us.

Maybe all of this would be easier if he were angry.

But he isn't angry. Not at all. He's something else, but I'm not sure what. _Sad_ doesn't seem strong enough. _Depressed_ doesn't quite fit either. What, then?

In a word, I'd say he's broken.

Physically, he's here with me. I can feel the reassuring weight of his body on mine. I look down, and I see his head in my lap. My fingers run through his hair, rhythmically, evenly, over and over again. I hope it comforts him as he sleeps, although I'm not sure he's even aware of my presence.

Mentally, emotionally, he's somewhere else entirely. Thinking back, it was actually kind of amazing - in a horrifying, heartbreaking sort of way. The look on his face when he realized. The way the light in his eyes went out. It's like his essence, his personality, everything he was - just disappeared. One minute he was there, and then in an instant he…wasn't.

He sighs a little. It sounds like a sob. He begins to stir, so I pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders and whisper softly until he drops off again. It doesn't take long. The sedatives are strong, and his doctor warned me that they would probably knock him out for several hours at least.

He needs the rest. He hasn't slept for days. I know he's exhausted but it's like his mind can't shut down, can't let go of the pain long enough to relax. He resisted the sedatives, of course, but eventually I managed to talk him into it. His father's firm insistence may have helped a bit too.

In the past, there was someone who could have convinced him without difficulty.

But this isn't the past. This is now. And now everything is different.

I watch him sleep. It isn't peaceful. He's restless, mumbling and twitching rapidly, as though having nightmares. I wouldn't doubt it. I keep stroking his hair, hoping it will soothe him. "Shhh," I murmur. "Shhh, baby. You're fine. It's okay."

I feel like a liar. Of course it isn't okay. How could it be? But I have to at least pretend. I have to be strong.

Because I'm afraid he's going to shatter. I've never seen him like this, so fragile, so heartsick. In so much pain.

I'll do whatever I can to help hold him together. I'll be here for as long as it takes. Even if it takes forever, I have to help him get past this. _If_ he can get past this. But even if he moves on, he'll never be the same. How could he? How could anyone?

I feel him stir beneath my hands, and am surprised when he suddenly sits up.

He speaks before I have the chance. "He's gone." Just a few small words, but the meaning behind them changes his life forever. Our life. What could have been. "I miss him."

It isn't fair.

"I know," I say helplessly. It's true.

"Gus died," he says simply. I think he's still in denial. He needs confirmation, although I know he doesn't really want it.

"He did," I reply quietly, my own heart seizing with the words. "I'm so sorry." And I am. I'm truly sorry, more than words can possibly convey. I can't even imagine how _he_ must feel.

His beautiful hazel eyes, now bloodshot and weary, search mine for a long moment. Then he whispers, "I can't lose you, Jules. Please don't leave."

The despair in his voice is raw and it's excruciating to hear. But there's something else in his tone, something less agonizing.

Hope.

"You won't lose me, Shawn. I'm not leaving."

He seems to believe me and nods slowly before curling back into my lap. "I'm glad," comes a whisper so faint I may be imagining it.

I resume stroking his hair as he again retreats into sleep.

I can't control the future, but I'll always be here. Because when you love someone, that's how it works. I'm not going anywhere.

This much I can promise.


	2. Henry's Promise

_This story really was intended to be a one-shot...but evidently my muse just wasn't satisfied so I had to write a little more. This chapter is from a different character's point of view, and there will for sure be one more after after this and most likely an epilogue as well. It's basically finished and I'm pretty pleased with the way it all turned out - especially given how different it is from my norm. Hopefully it isn't too hard to follow the story time line. I really do thrive on reviews. I'd love some feedback. :) -abby_

* * *

"Hey," I say quietly. He's standing by the window, completely motionless, just staring out into the courtyard. He doesn't respond, so I lay a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, pal."

He's not surprised by my presence, but doesn't pull his gaze away from the window either. "This is so wrong," he says softly, then pauses at his own choice of words. "Well, you know..."

"I do," I nod solemnly, but don't say anything else. He isn't finished.

"He should be here. I never thought that this day would actually come, but it did, and without him…" he trails off again, sounding lost. "I always assumed he'd be here, standing by me."

"He should be. He'd want to be." I agree completely. It isn't fair, the way things worked out. But that's life, I suppose.

He sighs heavily and slowly turns to face me. I'm momentarily stricken by how much he's changed, both in appearance and attitude. I guess everyone has to grow up sometime, although I wish it had happened under different circumstances. It's been a rough year for all of us, but hardest on him by far. There were points so low that I didn't know if he'd be able to survive. But he did. He fought his way through, and today he starts a new chapter. I'm hopeful that it is what he needs to finally heal.

He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How do I look?"

"You look great, kiddo," I say honestly. I reach over and straighten his tie, then briefly squeeze the base of his neck. "You look…ready."

"I am," he agrees, smiling genuinely this time. "I have been for quite a while." He tilts his head and looks at me appraisingly. "Are you?"

I chuckle. "Yep. Looking forward to it. You're very lucky, you know."

"You're telling me." He grins widely and all traces of sadness disappear from his face, although I know not from his heart. He'll carry that sorrow for as long as he lives. "Come on, old man." He grabs me by the elbow and tugs me toward the door. "Let's do this."

I'm following when suddenly he stops and turns, unexpectedly grabbing me in a fierce hug. "Thanks for everything." His voice is muffled, his face pressed into my shoulder. I'm surprised at first but it only takes me a second to return the strong embrace.

I hold him tightly, reassured by the solid feel of his body in my arms. Thankfully, he's put most of the weight back on. He hardly ate for months after it happened, and subsequently dropped about 30 pounds. I barely recognized the poor kid. He was this…shadow of his former self, in more ways than one. I'm not ashamed to admit that I was scared. I really thought I was going to lose him too. But finally, _finally_, he's come back to himself.

Mostly. He still struggles some days, but the vast majority of the time he's a lot like the stubborn, pain-in-the-ass kid I used to know. And I couldn't be more grateful.

"Come on," I say after a few moments, trying to hide the emotion I feel. "You don't want to be late."

"Yeah," he laughs shortly, but it is clear that he's choking back a sob. With a final squeeze he draws away and looks me in the eyes. "I'd give anything for him to be here now. But I'm glad that _you_ are."

I'm not one for empty words or meaningless platitudes. Never have been. Nor am I terribly spiritual or a big believer in the afterlife. But still, I mean it when I say softly, "He's here, pal. I'm sure of it. He wouldn't miss this."

The kid's eyes shine brightly and I can see that he's fighting to keep the tears from falling. He nods silently as a single drop escapes and trails down his cheek.

I cup his face in my hands and brush the tear away with my thumb. "I mean it, Shawn." I know my voice reflects my own considerable grief. I loved Gus like my own, after all. And I wish that today didn't have to be so bittersweet for my son, but hope that the thought of his friend is comforting. "He's here, and he's every bit as happy for you as I am. I promise."

"Yeah." He tilts his face skyward as if searching for something. For someone. He blinks away the remaining tears with a sad smile. "I know."


	3. Shawn's Promise

I never thought I'd be here, never expected I'd make it this far. I'm overwhelmed and thrilled and nervous. And a little bit nauseous, now that I think about it.

I'm also sad. Not because of what today holds – I couldn't be happier about that. But there's someone missing. Someone who can never be replaced, someone who I'll mourn until the day of my own death. As content as I am, as full as my life is, there will always be a gaping hole.

And that sucks.

But today, of all days, he wouldn't want me to be sad. If I concentrate, I can almost hear him. _ This isn't about me, you idiot. _I smile inwardly as his voice continues in my head. It helps calm my nerves and keep me focused, just like he always did in life. _Today is about you. And her._ _Man, I still can't believe you're actually doing this. You. Of all people._

If he was really here to say those things - he'd be right. I never have been the type to settle down. But she changed everything.

Here I stand at the front of the chapel, on the most important day of my whole entire life. My father stands beside me, in the spot that should be filled by my best friend. And I guess…it is, in a way. The last year changed my entire relationship with Dad. It's funny, really. Not "ha-ha" funny, but amazing. We're closer now than I ever thought possible. Incredible that such a nightmare could help us forge the bond we'd been missing my whole life.

Dad and I aren't the only ones who grew closer. _She_ was my support system from the moment it happened. She was there in that terrible instant when my life was changed forever, when I realized that it was over, that he was gone. And she never left.

I still remember as though it was yesterday. One of the burdens of an eidetic memory – horrifying moments are eternally etched in my mind. The good ones are in there too, naturally, but it tends to be the awful memories that linger, replaying themselves at the most inopportune of times.

Like now.

Why am I thinking about this? Not here, absolutely not right now. Stop it. Not today. I shake my head slightly to clear it and suddenly feel a supportive hand grip my shoulder from behind. It's Dad, gently reminding me why I'm here.

I don't need a reminder. Because familiar music fills the air. Doors are opening, people rising to their feet, and then…

There she is.

God, she's beautiful. Just breathtakingly, mindblowingly gorgeous. Like an angel, swathed in white. _My_ angel. She seems to float down the aisle on her father's arm. I feel a grin spread across my face.

She beams radiantly in return. Every eye in the place is on her, as it should be. She is a sight to behold. I can feel the happiness; see the smiles on each and every face as they watch her, my stunning bride. My princess, my goddess, my everything. I need her like I need oxygen.

It isn't long before she's by my side. She immediately reaches for my hand, and I squeeze her fingers gratefully.

Words are spoken, but I can't hear them. I can't focus on anything except her beauty. Just like the day we met – and every day since – if she's in the room, she has my undivided attention. Someone used to say that she was the only one who could get me to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. Who could settle me down.

_You know that's right._ I hear him in my head again, as clearly as if he were standing right next to me. Where he belongs. I miss you right now, buddy. But Dad has a point. I know you're here.

It's her turn to speak and she turns to face me. Blue eyes lock with mine, and the bliss I see there almost causes my heart to burst. God, she's so happy.

_I'm _so happy.

She repeats the words as instructed, smiling lovingly at me the entire time. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms and kiss her perfect lips forever, but she knows me too well. She thought ahead and made me promise.

_After it's over,_ she'd said,_ you can kiss me as much as you want. Just behave. Humor me and do it right_, she warned knowingly. I saw the amused twinkle in her eye that day, but am well aware of how important this is to her. And she's _that_ important to me.

So I keep my word and resist the urge to kiss her. Instead, I say what I should. Even though I'm just echoing, I mean every syllable. And each one brings me closer to the real promise, the one where I swear to love and protect her forever, for better or worse, no matter what happens.

Honestly, that's the easy promise. It's a given.

It's time. Time for the question I've heard so many other men answer. I always felt a little sympathy for each of those schmucks, getting tied down like that. Binding themselves to one woman and effectively ending life as they knew it.

But now, my whole perspective is different. I no longer connect those words with the end of anything. Today, as cliché as it sounds even in my own mind, _today_ it is a new beginning. And it's exactly what I need. To know that I'll forever have the love of the beautiful woman beside me; love that I can happily return a thousand times over. And it is a comfort to feel the unwavering support of every single person in the chapel.

Even those who can't be seen.

Now it's my turn. Every eye is on me as the priest asks, "Do you, Shawn, take Juliet to be your wife? For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

I don't hesitate, don't have to think. I simply grin broadly as I reply.

"I do."


	4. A New Promise

_Standard disclaimers apply, etc., and please forgive any factual errors in the name of poetic license. Really the end of the story this time, I promise. More of an epilogue, I suppose. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! -abby_

* * *

"Breathe, baby. Breathe," I coach gently. I helpfully demonstrate by pulling a deep breath in through my nose.

She glares angrily at me. "Shut up," she hisses through clenched teeth.

For once I make the smart decision. I shut up.

It isn't easy, though. I hate seeing her like this. I want to be able to fix it, to make all the hurt go away. But there's only one thing that will make this pain disappear, and there's little I can do to speed it along.

So I grab her hand and give her something to cling to. She takes full advantage, squeezing desperately.

She's clearly a lot stronger than I gave her credit for. The pressure on my fingers isn't exactly comfortable, but I grit my teeth and say nothing. Any pain she's causing me is a mere fraction of what she's feeling, I have no doubt about that. And if it helps her cope then I can deal.

We stay like that for a while. She is gasping and moaning at regular intervals, and all I can do is just hang on for the ride.

"Oh god!" She exclaims out of nowhere. Her eyes open wide and she looks up at me. "Oh god, it's time! Now!"

The room instantly becomes chaotic, suddenly filled with nurses and medical staff. Everything happens so quickly I can hardly tell what's going on. She looks scared, though, so I bend down and gently kiss her forehead. "I love you, babe. You can do this."

She doesn't respond, as all of her energy is currently focused on following the doctor's gentle instructions. I watch helplessly, my throbbing hand still clutched tightly in hers, as she gives it everything she's got.

To my great surprise, it doesn't take long. A couple of minutes and then it's all over as quickly as it began. The room is no longer filled with her cries of agony. Instead, it is filled with a new cry. It's a completely foreign sound. I mean, of course I've heard similar cries before. I just never expected them to have anything to do with me.

But a lot of things have changed over the past four years. Stuff happens, best laid plans get shot right to hell, and sometimes you end up in a place you never predicted at all.

Life is funny like that.

I watch, enthralled, as the nurses do their jobs. The painful pressure on my hand releases as she lets go, equally fascinated. Neither of us says a word. Happy tears stream down her cheeks and I'm hardly breathing by the time the nurse turns to face us.

"Here you go, Mom," the woman says with a smile, passing the tiny bundle into waiting arms.

I can't believe this. She's a _mom_. And that makes me a…

Holy crap.

I must look as stunned as I feel, because suddenly the nurses shift their attention to me. "Whoa, easy there Dad."

_Who? _Oh, right.

They keep talking as they pull up a chair. "Sit down before you pass out, hon." "Come on, Dad, stay with us." "Breathe, baby. Breathe."

That last voice I recognize. The sarcasm isn't lost on me and I look over to see her grinning wickedly, our baby cuddled in her arms.

_Our_ baby. Wow. Just…wow.

"I'm okay," I say with a smile. And I am. Better than okay, in fact, once I do finally manage to start breathing again.

"Do you want to hold him?" She watches me carefully, eyebrows lifted.

I nod emphatically. Of course I do. But I still feel a little shaky, so I stay seated as one of the nurses makes the transfer.

Then I'm holding my son and it's unlike anything I could have imagined. It's surreal. Terrifying and overwhelming and unbelievably awesome. I stare down into the little face as he sleeps, studying his nose, his lips, his eyelashes. He's perfect. And he's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen.

Dark blue eyes open, and he's looking at me. I whisper to him softly.

"Hey, buddy. I'm your dad." The little guy looks incredulous, crazy as that seems. He's only a few minutes old, after all! But I don't blame him. I mean, come on. What kind of a dad am I going to be? I have no idea. I look over at his mother for reassurance, but she has dozed off. And now I realize that the nurses are gone. It seems I'm alone, just me and the kid.

Um. Help?

I keep talking quietly.

"There's someone I wish you could meet, buddy. Today's his birthday too." I smile sadly. "I could never seem to remember it when he was alive. Used to drive him absolutely crazy." I haven't forgotten once since he died. I visit his grave often, and always, always on his birthday. I didn't make it today…but somehow I think he'll understand.

The baby snuffles a little and I feel myself beginning to panic. What if he starts to cry? What do I do? I resume talking, hoping desperately to keep him content.

"He'd be here now," I continue, allowing myself to wallow in grief. I don't do that very much anymore – it's been years, after all. But in quiet moments his absence is still almost physically painful. "He'd be pacing in the hallway, a total nervous wreck until he got to meet you. And until he knew that your mom was okay too." Another smile drifts across my face. "He'd be the greatest uncle. God, I'm so sorry you're going to miss out on that, little guy."

It's not fair.

The snuffling continues and begins to escalate. Uh oh. You're supposed to rock babies, right? Or walk them around? I decide to try that and stand, pacing the floor while gently bouncing him in my arms. To my great surprise he quiets almost immediately.

So I keep going. I tell him all about the best friend anyone could ever have, the uncle he'll unfortunately never get to meet. I'm so lost in his perfect little face that I don't even notice that she's gotten out of bed, not until her arms are wrapped around me.

I'm instantly worried. "Should you be up?" He tenses in reaction to my tone so I lower to a whisper. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assures me with a tolerant smile. "I needed to be with my two favorite men in the world."

"He's incredible," I say, still in complete awe of what we've created.

"He is," she agrees. We stare for a moment, just watching him sleep. It feels so right; our baby snug in my arms, my beautiful wife's enveloping us both.

Suddenly I realize that now she is staring at me instead.

"What?" I ask, concerned that something is wrong.

She smiles beatifically. "You were so nervous, but you're a natural." She kisses me warmly and caresses the baby's head. "Look at him. Happy as can be. You're going to be a great dad."

I chuckle and give her a peck on the nose. "I hope so." We resume gazing at the tiny person in my arms and I promise him softly, "I'll do my best."

The moment is interrupted as a nurse enters. She's pushing a bassinet and pauses in the doorway to smile at us. "What a lovely family," she declares cheerfully. "Have you decided on a name for your son?"

Jules looks at me questioningly, piercing blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. I nod slowly, and her response to the nurse is quiet. "His name is Shawn Henry Spencer, Jr."

Now choking back my own tears, all I can manage is a whisper as I pick up where she left off. "But we're going to call him Gus."


End file.
